Cold
by SilentTrainConductor
Summary: What does one need to fight off the cold?


_A/N First Starsky and Hutch story I ever wrote, posted on a livejournal community, now posted here. _

**Cold**

It was cold. Cold. Not just the cold where you shiver and wish for a cup of hot chocolate. No. It was _cold._ The kind where your throat can't open, your limbs don't want to move, the kind where your body wants to shut down completely. Where you would be willing to die, for the sake of any type of warmth.

He wondered how long he had been trapped in such a place. Wondered if anyone noticed his disappearance…how long had he been gone anyway? It was also dark. There were no lights, no soft hue that could reassure a person that their sight was functioning. A void blackness, so he had closed his eyes where he could imagine his own light. There he also imagined his best friend, partner, hope. He even allowed himself to smile, even though the movement hurt like hell.

He had not given up, that was for sure. He had his will, and that's all that was needed. Sometimes people lived on will alone, not on machines, or on needles. He knew that, he had experienced it many times. So he had no doubt he would get out of this alive. Still…it was cold. The only sound was the gentle hum of the place, shutting off every now and then, which bothered him; the noise being his only source of company.

Memories swirled about him, brief scenes and glimpses none of them complete. There was one where they were laughing, one where he was helping and crying for his partner. One where his friend was doing the same for him. There were ones without his friend, where the sun was shining, birds were flying….the Cap yelling at him. He tried to focus on one alone, hating to feel his mind swirling without any sort of control. He found though, that it needed much effort, effort he wanted to reserve for the sake of staying alive. So he let the images fly before him, not truly minding, since most of them were happy. Just what he needed to keep his will strong.

Though some memories that weren't as happy managed to slip through his wall. He whimpered inwardly as he had to see his partner lying, nearly dead, before him. How many close calls they had, and knowing this one would be yet another to the list. He wouldn't admit it to himself, but there was some lingering doubt. Doubt that this time he wouldn't make it. Doubt that he would never feel warmth again. Doubt….Doubt that he wouldn't be able to say "Goodbye" to his closest friend. To his partner. To his hope. To his will.

But that's all it was. Doubt, not the sense of giving up. He still had hope, and still believed, strongly, faithfully. He would be saved, by who or what he didn't know. Of course he did, he chided himself. You know who will come, like always. Like always, in a good way, in a way that he knew he was important to somebody. Just as he was to him.

Yes. He would come, and he would ask him "What took you so long?" He imagined his friend, partner, lifeline, laughing in relief. It was an image he kept, an image that replayed over and over in his mind.

Did he doze off? He must have, for now there were voices, at least he thought they were voices. He often thought the hum of the machine to be voices. It could be another mistake. But no…there was also thumping…and…gun shots? His heart leapt to his throat, had he come to save him? Was he hurt? He tried to move, but all he could do was open his eyes, and move his fingers slightly. He kept trying, clenching and unclenching his fist, slowly trying to get his blood moving again. Then, then there was something…a flash…light! The door had opened forcefully, and he mentally cringed at the noise. He saw his friend look at him in fear, and he gave a smile in response to reassure him. He wanted to say "What took you so long?" but the words wouldn't form, all he could do was open and close his mouth like a fish.

It didn't seem to bother his partner, he came over quickly, afraid to touch him. His partner spoke to him, but all he heard was a hum, like the machine. But that didn't bother him one bit, for his voice carried something no other voice could. _Warmth_. He could see his friend's emotions playing on his face, flickering changing. His partner finally leaned in and hugged him. He hugged back as best he could, thanking his friend, his partner, his hope, his life. His Warmth.

**Fin**


End file.
